


This Umbrella Ain't Big Enough For The Both Of Us

by HerenorThereNearnorFar



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Chalupa Theory Referenced, Gen, Meet Lup In The Umbra Staff For An Asskicking, The Suffering Game
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-22
Updated: 2017-03-22
Packaged: 2018-10-09 02:08:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10401360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HerenorThereNearnorFar/pseuds/HerenorThereNearnorFar
Summary: Two liches, one moderately sized umbrella. Edward and Lup astrally fist-fight and share too many feelings. It's cramped in there.





	

In real time, the whole thing probably takes about ten seconds.

Ten seconds can be a very long time in the mind.

It is possibly the ten worst and most interesting seconds of his very, very long unlife.

Only living things eat. There must be a mind before there can be self propulsion. Edward knows even as the umbrella swallows him that _something_ is already in there.

The first moments inside still hurt like hell. A phylactery isn’t meant to hold more than one. Two souls press up against each other, two minds fight for control and sanity. Memory swamps him, images of pain and light and magic and horrible, mind rending darkness, and he realizes dully that this was not some mindless beast or small time sentience. This is someone of power, and they **aren’t happy.**

It's is going to be a real fight to break free, to return to Lydia. He grabs his memories of his sister, of his past, of his magic, and holds them tight, refuses to be drowned in the hungry magic of the other inhabitant of the… umbrella. Ugh, eaten by an accessory. How passe.

With a lurch they finally separate their minds, mostly, and take stock of one another. There isn’t the space to have a standoff- the edges of their minds still mingle, bringing to him snatches of emotion and thought- but they try all the same.

She has the feeling of a female soul, rough around the edges and burning with righteous fury. The timbre of her anger suggests a personal note, she’s attached to the idiot who wields her staff. Age drips off her her, and so does death. Lich to lich, then.

 _Get ready to die for good, buster,_ a voice warns him, and magic surges from all sides, an assault on his very being.

Edward shoulders it, digging himself into the magical roots of the staff, trying to find some purchase, to no avail. It’s been her home for some time and she definitely has a home team advantage.

Best to stay on the offensive then. He lashes back out with a gust of magic and accompanies it with a thought, words carefully assembled in the mind and broadcast on all frequencies.

 _Sorry, darling, but I need to get back to my sister. No hard feelings?_ He knows negotiating is a non-starter. This woman reminds him of Lydia in a way, something about the colour of her soul, and once riled Lydia never lets go until her opponent is utterly ruined. Not dead, necessarily, but wishing for death.

The test blow rolls off of the other being like a gentle gust of wind. Oh, dear. He throws himself to the side, and feels the umbrella buckle and shake. Maybe if they tear it to pieces….

 _Oh, no, you don’t get to pull all that and then get away,_ she snaps. The next mental strike is a tsunami, but Edward can weather any storm. He uses the blow to grab at her mind, tug and pull at her defenses. Memories spill out like stardust. A cooking fire, a boy with pointed ears and golden hair and magic between his hands, a flash of red, dark rituals.  
  
A name.

He lets go before she can retaliate and backs up as much as is possible in such a confined space. You really can’t share an umbrella of this size, not without someone getting squished. It’s all elbows and entwined magic, most of which she has control of. _Now, ‘Lup’, let’s talk this out like civilized deathless abominations_.

He’s hurt someone she loved, and that won’t be an easy hurdle to clear, but Edward has been making himself likable for a very long time.

_I saw enough of your little games earlier, you shiny bastard._

Unfortunate, but true. He shrugs, as much as anyone can shrug without a body. _Liches have to eat, my dear. What are you running off of, hmm?_

He pokes the core of her soul, and takes the sharp stab in response evenly. He isn’t sure how much longer he can hold up a place so clearly made for someone else, but showing weakness will only egg her on.

She isn’t stupid. _You’re breaking up without your sister here to protect you,_ she says, with a tinge of sadness. _Give up and die. It’s long past your time._

_But not yours?_

_I’ve got stuff to do, buddy._

The umbrella shudders again as they grapple, trying to tear each other to shreds. He hopes it hasn’t been too long on the outside. Lydia can take care of herself, but she worries about him. They worry about each other.

His solid core of best and most precious memories shatters as Lup rains down more blows. Lydia and Keetz and summer days fall out of his control, into the tangled mess that is the two of them. Lup pauses in her attacks.

 _You were human,_ she hisses, accusingly.

 _No one questions elves being capricious,_ he admits, because talking is better than getting beaten up. _Call it a stylistic choice._

_Ugh._

Given the nature of liches, chances are good that they now knew more about each other than almost anyone else in the world, sad as that is. He makes another attempt at bargaining. _We’re very much alike. We both care about someone out there very much. Let me out and he and you can go on your way._

Edward can see thought shimmering across her mind, followed by malicious glee. _Oh, I’ll let you out. My boys can deal with you._

He braces as magic, all force and no finesse, rips through him, but can’t keep from taking damage. Souls are hard to hurt and not particularly well designed for brawling, but she’s good at it.

 _Not... really... in the spirit of the agreement,_ he thinks, gaps in between words as his mind reels with pain. He’s going to be of no help to Lydia like this, and that hurts even more than the magical trouncing. `Her face, every single one she’d worn over their long years, flashs in front of him. They’d survived, he could now.

Then he sees Keetz’s dorky, serious smile and thick curls and long dead face and his resolve buckles.

Lup sends more magic racing like fire through him and it hurts. He’s no stranger to pain, but it’s been quite a few years since he’s felt it like this.

 _You know,_ she says, as she begins to push his battered self out of the umbrella and into the world again, _We are kind of alike. The only difference is that I’m a_ **_good person_ ** _._

Edward and Lydia had thought that once as well. He’s about to say as much, but then he remembers her shattered memories of laughter and magic and fire and Taako, the secondhand love and fear and frustration radiating off of her like heat. She has to be drawing on something, and there’s nothing better than self-assured determination, the ready knowledge that you’re doing the right thing, whatever that thing might be.

For once in his very long un-life, he keeps his mouth shut and lets himself be spat out of the staff. There’s no honour between liches, but there can be small favours, one twin to another.

Besides, he _really_ doesn’t want her to hurt him anymore.

 


End file.
